


Big Boss's Big Blunder, Round 2

by goodnightfern



Series: 2017 Supply Drops [10]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Big Boss did Nothing Wrong, Bosselot, M/M, Medical Accuracy what?, Necrophilia, Skullfuck, Snuff, The Big Boss Snuff Film Festival Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 15:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightfern/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: Ocelot fucks up again. Big Boss tries to fix it.(For MGS Supply Drop)





	Big Boss's Big Blunder, Round 2

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: "BBV skullfucking, Big Boss rips out the shrapnel in Venom's head and fucks the hole as well as his brain. He mind fucks V."

Ugh, this thing. He’s nauseous just looking at it. 

Not quite like looking into a mirror, no. Adam warned him about encountering it face to face, but this is fine. It’s just the two of them in the desert. In the place that will be Outer Heaven. Not much, just an abandoned munitions plant, but they’ll get there. 

He’s supposed to be showing the phantom his new kingdom but the guy is asking about the wildlife around here. Yeah, there’s shit to eat. Careful of the scorpions, but they’re crunchy. Whatever. The guy’s helicopter is plastered with pictures of zebras and zebras are completely useless in the field. Can’t ride them, too heavy to drag around, maybe an emergency shelter except zebras don’t live where it drops to below zero at night, so. Just Fulton the striped assholes and let the boys back home have a barbeque. 

The medic always did -

No.

Big Boss doesn’t get dewy-eyed over gerbils. The phantom is a hot mess, to say the least. Coming out here with his little tranq guns. Zoning out randomly. Picking the odd weeds.

They’re taking a smoke break in the shadow of what will soon be a fortress. The phantom pulls out a weird vaporizer that makes nauseating herbal clouds and it’s not even pot. What the hell.

“None of that shit,” Big Boss tells him, and hands him a real cigar. 

It makes the phantom cough. His eye waters. “Wow,” he says. “That’s a little rough.”

“You can take it.”

“Kaz never let me have these,” he says. Takes another puff - smaller, this time. 

“Hn. He was always on my back about that. Must be nice not dragging that ball and chain around anymore.”

The phantom shrugs. Examines the cigar, coughs again. “These are pretty brutal, you know.” He looks across the desert. Up at the stars with a sigh. “Kind of a shame about him, huh?”

“Why the hell are you still talking about Kaz?”

The phantom eyes him. “Why not? He was our partner for years. His money is going into this place.”

“Our money.”

“Heard you've been having budget -”

“None of that was real, okay?” Big Boss tells him. “Kaz was a desperate little slut who did nothing but use us for cash. A weak grubby dog who thought he could leash a wolf. Always was, always will be.”

“True.” He stares at the cigar. “I guess you never saw him after Afghanistan, huh.” 

“Yes, I did. I’m you. Remember?” Big Boss grabs him by the shoulder. Shoves him up against the concrete wall. “He was a whore and a spy. We’re better off without him.” How does Adam do it? Wiggle a little pendulum? Drug him up? Adam should be here to handle him. Whose idea was it to be alone with him? 

The phantom closes his eye. Opens it. Big Boss stares at him, willing him to do something. To be Big Boss. Show him that he’s capable of doing this on his own, with no whiny sluts to prop him up.

“Remember what I told you. You’re your own man, but that man belongs to me.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“That’s right.”

“Kaz was a whore and a spy.”

“And?”

“He used us. We’re better off without him.”

Good. “And who's we?”

“Me.” He touches his nose. Reaches out to touch the other. 

The two of them, together.

Then his eye rolls back and he curls over himself. A low moan of pain. His bionic hand reaches for the shrapnel.

“Come on, buddy,” Big Boss tells him. “You got this. Say it again. Tell me who you are.”

The phantom doesn’t seem to hear him.

Too much shit happened with Diamond Dogs. Yeah, Big Boss heard. Some chick broke up with him, Kaz broke up with him, a bunch of guys got sick. The parasite stuff was a total shitshow.

Adam said the guy was drifting all the time. Finally had a breakdown and freaked out his own staff. That’s why they finally had to bring him in. 

Now he’s drifting again. Bullshit, just bullshit. This mind control crap is all Adam's AO.

No, they’re fine. If anything goes truly wrong he’ll call for a medevac. Big Boss needs to learn to control himself.

The phantom’s grabbing the shrapnel. His fingers trace it, sloppily. Is it causing him pain? Fucking with his mind? The front lobe is all about personality and shit. Maybe that’s why he can’t keep it straight. 

He looks like he wants the shrapnel out. Carrying that thing around must hurt quite a bit. 

Well, there’s one way to find out. 

Big Boss grabs the shrapnel and yanks. It does something, all right. The phantom gasps, staggers, but there’s a light in his eye when he looks up. 

“You,” he hisses. “You’re a -”

“I am,” Big Boss tells him, and yanks again. “And so are you.”

The phantom screams. Good. Anger is powerful. He needs to have his own rage. His own pain. The shrapnel must be what’s fucking with his head. 

Now the phantom lunges for him. Perfect. They roll around in the dark, snarling and punching like beasts, but every time Big Boss grabs the shrapnel the phantom freezes up and twitches, or howls in pain, or spits and shudders. How is he supposed to fight in the field with such a giant, obvious weakness? 

It’s getting looser in his hands. 

Big Boss yanks and it comes out with a sickening crack, leaving a bloody hole in its wake while the phantom screams. Blood is pouring out as the wound splits open. It’s too dark to make out the details. 

“Tell me who you are,” he tells it.

The phantom moans. He’s not saying it. He’s supposed to say it. He strikes him across the face, crushing his nose beneath his knuckles. 

“Tell me who you are.”

This is the language Big Boss speaks. Violence will always speak louder than words.

But he’s not fucking saying the words. He props the guy up on his knees, leans his head against the wall. What the fuck is wrong with him? What does he have to do?

He feels the hole with his fingers.

Of course he’s hard. Who wouldn’t be? He’s had to jerk it before in the field - on a dead enemy’s face, face down in the mud, whatever. This might be good, though. A chance to let the phantom know who he belongs to.

First he slips it between the phantom’s lips. His throat is loose and unyielding, and he doesn’t care even when Big Boss grabs him by the ponytail and fucks his throat. Too loose, too drooly. 

The other hole, though. The one that’s been causing him so much trouble. He can’t quite see but he can feel it. Gaping. Wet. Squishy inside.

Let Big Boss fill the cracks in his skull. That’s what he truly needs.

There’s a slight scrape of bone in there, just enough to pretend it’s expert teeth. Kaz was always good at using just enough teeth to drive him over the edge, but he can’t think about Kaz right now. It’s juicy and squishy inside, and he prods shallowly, carefully. The thing certainly won’t survive if he just slams his entire cock in, but it’s fun to fuck around with this strange new hole. He teases around the edge, nudges it in past the cracking of his skull, rubs the blood along the length of his cock. 

“Say it,” he chokes out. “Say your name.” 

Not a fucking word. 

People get lobotomies all the time and survive. He pushes in a little further. Let him feel that. He’ll _fuck_ himself into the guy’s brain if he has to. 

“You’re Big Boss,” he says, panting. “Say it. Say you’re - aw, _shit_ ,” and he pulls out just in time to come on his own face.

He drops to his knees. Peers into his eye. Lights a match to see it’s empty, dull even with a drop of semen hanging from the lashes.

Great.

Well, now he needs a fucking medevac. He grabs the iDroid off the phantom’s body to call his pilot. Adam has his work cut out for him with this thing. He’s obviously not ready to run shit in Outer Heaven. There’ll be a medic with whatever support team he’s got standing by, right? He’ll be fine.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” he tells the thing. Pats it on the shoulder. “We’ll figure this shit out.” 

Still no response.

“Hey. Come on. Seriously?”

The phantom slumps over.

He’s dead. No bullshit, completely dead for god knows how long. No pulse, no breath from his lips, nothing. 

Fucking useless. Absolutely useless. This whole body double stunt was doomed from the start, he knew it, he should have never listened to Adam. He stands up in a hurry, stepping back from the corpse. 

This is all Adam’s fault. And Zero’s. And whatever doctor never bothered to take the stupid giant horn out of his head. Now everything’s fucked.

Whatever. He’ll figure something else out. Adam doesn’t leave things to chance. There was only room for one Big Boss. There was only ever one Big Boss. That's what Adam said.

Big Boss rummages around the plant for a gas can. Pours it over the mess. Lights a cigar and drops the match before walking away.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I went for a more comedic take for the second round of Big Boss's Snuff Film Festival.


End file.
